


Enough is Enough

by EnemyJoestar



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Armchair Therapy, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29774829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnemyJoestar/pseuds/EnemyJoestar
Summary: A short aside that takes place during chapter 21 of Denouncing the Desert.The Hamlet has had enough of Reynald being a constant source of antagonism, and Dismas takes it upon himself to try and set things right by confronting the Crusader in the privacy of his own hut to find out exactly what his problem is, and how to deal with it. Harsh words are had, but Reynald opens up about his harsh past, and why he behaves the way he does.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Enough is Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if it would be more appropriate to stick this and DTD into a series on here; I barely know how to navigate the site. I've wanted to write this for awhile, but put it off due to personal issues. 
> 
> This may clear up some things; add a little backstory to Reynald that may make everyone hate him a little less XD

Boudica held Reynald in her arms like a sleeping child as they walked down the dirt path towards the very end of the Barracks, though there wasn't the care of a mother in her grasp. His head bobbed with every step, which at his age might mean a sore neck later, but that was the least of his worries.

He had been spending a good month grating on nerves and making enemies, and if the morning's fight had proven anything, it was that everyone was sick of it.

“His is the hut at the very end, right?” Boudica asked Dismas, who had slowed his pace to walk beside her.

“Yup.” He answered curtly. Boudica nodded to herself.

They did the rest of the short walk in tense silence. Dismas was growing visibly irritated with each passing second, and by the time they made it to Reynald's front door he had gone from irritated to fuming. He threw the door open hard enough to slam in into the wall and gestured for Boudica to follow him inside.

“Dump him on the bed.” He ordered. Boudica spotted the bed in the corner and did as she was told, taking no care to make sure the landing was comfortable.

“You need anything else from me?” she asked. Dismas shook his head. “Good, because I've got more important things to do.”

“I won't keep you.” Dismas said blandly. Boudica nodded and left without another word, leaving Dismas alone with Reynald.

He took a quick look around the Crusader's hut.

It was quite obvious that this was where most of the budget for the Barracks had been spent, thought it was likely that the funds had dried up before the other huts could be made to match. There were two massive beds, one of which was flipped on its side and pushed against the wall to take up less space; indicating that the hut only had one occupant. An incomplete set of chairs was stacked up beside it, though one had been left out to sit by its lonesome at a large oak table; a worn bible lying open on its edge.

It painted a lonely picture.

Dismas walked over to the table and ran his fingers over the bible's pages. He was surprised when his fingers cleared them of a thin coat of dust.

He couldn't make out the Latin, but he could guess that the bible was propped open for a reason. The spine was heavily cracked between those pages, and those pages alone.

Dismas grabbed the chair and dragged it over to Reynald's bed, placing it beside his head before sitting down. He leaned into his hands as he stared down at the Crusader.

He waited.

It wasn't long before Reynald started to stir. He groaned lightly as he opened his eyes, wincing as the light of dawn shone through his window to illuminate his face. He worked himself up to his forearms and placed a hand to his forehead.

He sighed heavily and fell into silence.

A few moments later he furrowed his brow and turned his head, eyes widening as he caught sight of Dismas.

“What the fuck are you doing, Reynald?” Dismas asked. Reynald's mouth made motions to answer, but stayed silent. Dismas shook his head.

“I can't cut you anymore slack. I can't! It's not even dawn and you're out and about picking fights with...Sarmenti? Since when do you have a problem with him?” he continued, sitting a bit taller as he grew more animated. Reynald sucked on his teeth as he nodded.

“We had a bit of a disagreement.” he said quietly. Dismas narrowed his eyes.

“A bit of a disagreement?” he repeated incredulously, “You had the man screaming in his native tongue.”

“The man's a bit dramatic.” Reynald offered.

“You're a bit dramatic!” Dismas shouted back, “I don't see anyone else out here waving their dick around like they've got something to prove, or...passing out judgment like fucking hog feed!” he jolted out of his seat and started to pace the room.

“You don't have anything nice to say to anyone, which would be fine if you kept your fucking mouth shut, but you just go out of your way to piss people off! And look where that's gotten you!”

“It...doesn't concern you.” Reynald said weakly. Dismas licked his teeth as he slowly shook his head.

“No...no it does.” he assured firmly. “It concerns me when you pick fights with the fresh blood. It concerns me when you lock yourself in here all day, or the Church for that matter.” Dismas stopped pacing to look Reynald in the eye.

“I am concerned, Reynald. And you know what's the worst of it?” he asked, his voice dipping low, “I'm pretty sure I'm not the first person to try and talk to you about this.”

Reynald looked away in shame. Dismas scoffed.

“If you're so ashamed, why do you keep doing this?” he said as he made his way back to his chair. Reynald shifted uncomfortably as Dismas sat.

“What happened to you?” he asked. Reynald's fists clenched at his sides.

“Nothing happened, I...” he trailed off as he collected his thoughts; at a loss for what to say.

“I'm not going anywhere, Reynald.” Dismas said, crossing his arms and throwing one leg up onto the bed. “Not until we work this out.”

“We?” Reynald asked, turning his gaze back to Dismas. “This isn't your burden.”

Dismas sighed.

“We...fuck. How do I put this?” he began. He started tapping his finger against his arm as he struggled with his words. “You and I were the first ones to find work in the Hamlet, and I feel that maybe...I don't know. Maybe that should have meant something.”

Reynald's eyes widened slightly.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked.

“I don't know.” Dismas admitted. “I didn't figure we were blood brothers or anything, but maybe there was something about our first job that brought us a little closer. I'm sentimental, I guess.”

“Why would you be over something so inconsequential?” Reynald patronized. He seemed to regret the words as soon as they passed through his lips. Dismas' shoulders sank along with his expression, his eyes growing just a bit dimmer. He hadn't expected Reynald to belittle him, but he wasn't surprised.

“Inconsequential, huh?” he repeated weakly, turning his gaze from Reynald and smiling cynically at himself. “Fine, so what if it was? You should know better than to be a dick about it.”

“I didn't mean to-”

“No, you did.” Dismas said, interrupting Reynald's weak apology. “Whether it's how you feel or not, it's what you want me to think, right? That you don't care about anyone, that we're all ' inconsequential ' to you, but you contradict yourself _all the time_.” 

Reynald stayed silent.

“You think I don't notice how overprotective you are of me?”

Reynald's eyes widened drastically as his whole body tensed.

“I most certainly am not. Don't read into things that aren't there; you'll disappoint yourself.” he said curtly. Dismas laughed loudly in disbelief.

“Oh I'm disappointed alright.” he spat, sneering at the Crusader. “You can't even be honest with yourself when I'm trying to force your hand.”

“Who's to say I'm not?!” Reynald snapped, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting taller, bringing himself closer to Dismas. “You're assigning a persona on me because you don't want to admit that you don't like what you see!”

“You're right, I don't like what I see!” Dismas shouted back, sliding his leg off the bed and sitting fully erect, jabbing a finger into Reynald's chest. “And neither do you, yet you carry on with  _your_ persona, this...judgmental cunt of a man!” 

Reynald slapped Dismas' hand away, and they both rose to their feet, Dismas' chair flipping onto its back from his haste.

“Do not speak to me as such.” Reynald growled.

“Then tell me I'm wrong.” Dismas taunted. Reynald grabbed Dismas by the jacket, jostling him roughly as he brought him closer to himself.

“You are.” Reynald hissed through clenched teeth.

“Then HIT ME! Prove me wrong and show me that you're just like every other Crusader out there, that the brute picking fights out there is the real you!” Dismas shouted, voice wild and strained. Reynald sucked his teeth as he glared at Dismas, tightening his grip on the small man's jacket almost possessively. Dismas shot him a shaky grin.

“You won't, will you?” he said almost manically. “Because you're soft for me, and you have a heart in there somewhere that wants all this to stop, just as much as everyone else does.”

“Shut up.” Reynald seethed.

“I know things weren't good for you, Reynald.” Dismas started, “You're a fucking Crusader. None of you come out of your holy war okay, not the good ones at least.”

Reynald tensed up and paled.

“I'm...no good, Dismas. I'm not the saint some think me.” he said haltingly. Dismas scoffed.

“I don't think you a saint, Reynald, but I know you're not the monster you think you are.” Reynald loosened his grip on Dismas' jacket. “You wanna know why that is?”

“I suppose I do.” Reynald answered softly as Dismas stared up at him, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You're wracked with guilt. Monsters don't know what guilt is, from what I've seen.” Dismas firmed his lips, watching the hesitation build up on Reynald's face; mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something.

“Why are you pretending to not give a shit about...whatever the fuck it is that's eating you up from the inside?” Dismas asked.

Reynald slumped back down onto the bed, his arms falling limp at his sides as he stared down at the floor. Dismas took up a seat beside him.

“It's easier.” he admitted quietly. “Or it was, up until a community was forming here in the Hamlet. No one would take an interest in me, whether they be scared of a Crusader's reputation or too worried about themselves, it mattered not, but now...what would they do if they learned of what I've done?”

“Everyone's got their own shit to deal with. No one comes to a shit hole like this if they've got all their ducks in a row and a squeaky clean past, I can guarantee you that.” Dismas sighed, looking over at Reynald with a humourless, half cocked grin. “So, chances are high that your fuck ups are very low on their list of things to give a shit about.”

Reynald scoffed.

“Maybe you're right.” he said.

“Of course I'm right; I actually talk to these assholes from time to time. The only time they talk about  _you_ is when you pull some stupid shit to piss them off. If you're trying to stay off their minds, you're doing a piss poor job of it.” Dismas responded. 

Reynald nodded to himself.

“Maybe I've lost my amiability to the war.” he said after a pause. “It was more or less a duty of mine to put the fear of the Light into people, and it's much easier to subdue than convince.”

“...Aye, that it is.” Dismas agreed, “But it seems you're taking the easy way out of habit.”

“There was nothing  _easy_ about the war, Dismas.” Reynald snapped.

“You know that's not what I meant.” Dismas responded just as harshly. “I just mean you're stuck in a rut.”

They fell into an awkward silence. Dismas sighed.

“Why don't you tell me about the war.” He suggested. “Confessional's fucked, so why not give me a shot? Maybe someone who's not religious'll be more honest with you.”

Reynald began to fidget with his fingers, nervously caressing old callouses and scars.

“...Alright.” he agreed stiffly. “We were told there was glory to be had; the heathens in the desert needed to be cleansed, be it by blade or repentance. It was supposed to be a noble task, but when I got there, it was so much different than I expected. There was resistance, of course, and at first I thought it was unnecessary, but what my comrades were doing to the locals...I don't think I can blame anyone for trying to drive us out.” Reynald paused to swallow thickly.

“All that pillaging, rape, murder...but we were men of the Light, we could do no evil. Even so...I wouldn't participate, but I was too much of a coward to say anything. When our commander died and I took his place...I didn't do anything about their rampages. I looked the other way.”

Reynald's voice was shaking.

“I left my family to fight that war.”

Dismas' lips were firmed tight, his expression grim as he listened and waited for Reynald to continue.

He didn't.

“How long were you gone?” Dismas asked.

“Seven years,” Reynald choked out, “and I have nothing to show for it. My wife remarried, my squadron was too detestable to associate with, and I was burdened with wealth earned through bloodshed.”

“Is that why you came here, then? Nowhere to go and all that?” Dismas questioned. Reynald took in a shuddering breath and nodded. Dismas took a deep breath of his own.

“Well...that's quite a burden you carry, but it shouldn't be everyone's.” he said bluntly. “I'm not gonna tell you to suck it up and move on, but I think if you try to take a step out of your thick skull, you might find it a lot nicer out here than in there. And speaking from experience, things get a little easier to deal with the less time you spend dwelling on them.”

Reynald looked at Dismas, shock bordering on rage staining his face, but his expression softened at Dismas' stern gaze.

“I've not heard this type of advice from any priest I've spoken to.” He stated.

Dismas shrugged.

“Didn't figure. I'm guessing they all just sucked your cock and told you you shouldn't have doubts about holy business.”

Reynald frowned.

“Must you be so vulgar?” he criticized, to which Dismas scoffed.

“You can't pretend it bothers you after what you said to Tardif.” he pointed out. Reynald nodded and sighed.

“...Do you really think anyone wants me out there with them? I haven't done much to earn anything other than their contempt.” he asked.

Dismas smiled softly, something that seemed out of place on him, and yet not unflattering.

“I think people would care about you, if you let them.” he said. “But you've got a _lot_ of damage control ahead of you, and...well. You probably burned some bridges today.” 

Reynald chuckled to himself bitterly as he turned away, bringing his attention back to the floor.

“I've made quite a mess of things.” he stated. 

“Damn right you have.” Dismas agreed.

They fell into silence as the sun began to rise fully, brightening the room and bringing in a little more warmth. Dismas cast a glance over to the dusty bible sitting on the table across the room, and wondered if it served as a source of guilt or comfort. 

A soft sniffle distracted his thoughts, and he turned back to see Reynald crying quietly. 

“Should I leave you to your thoughts?” Dismas asked carefully. Reynald nodded. 

“I've a great deal to sort through, it seems.” he mumbled. Dismas went to place his hand on Reynald's knee, but fell short, tensing his fingers just shy of brushing against the fabric of his leggings. He withdrew and slipped off the bed with a soft grunt to take his leave. 

“Wait.” Reynald called out after him. Dismas turned around, putting his full attention back on the Crusader. “Thank you. For being sentimental.”

Dismas smiled meekly as he rubbed at his nose. 

“...You're welcome, I guess.” 


End file.
